Dance of Joy
by Electra126
Summary: While Buffy does the walk of shame, Faith does a dance of joy. (Companion piece to Walk of Shame, from Faith's point of view).


**Note:** This is a companion piece to Walk of Shame, but told from Faith's point of view. I've gotten away from writing 1st person POV, but since I did Walk of Shame that way I had to do the same with this one. Thanks for taking the time to check it out. :)

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**Dance of Joy**

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: when Buffy Summers gets drunk, she gets a little bit gay. And I'm gonna let you in on another secret, but there ain't nothin' little about this one. Hold on to your pants, boys and girls, 'cause this one's a real doozy.

When Buffy Summers gets drunk, she gets a little bit gay . . . for _me_.

And pow. That noise you hear? It's the sound of your pants hittin' the floor.

Mind-blowin info, right? Yeah, now imagine how I felt when I found that out.

See, back in Sunnydale, me and B never really had a chance to do that. First time around some real gnarly shit happened, and the second time around she was still too pissed at me to let go and join in on the fun. Gotta give the girl a break on that one though. We were dealing with the First and she had to be in General Buffy mode. There was no time for fun and games.

But from the time that we moved to LA, it's like all that bad stuff faded away. We weren't exactly best buds but we were cool. Then Red and Kennedy got engaged a few months later and I thought it would be a decent move on my part to handle the celebration. Between me and Gunn, we hooked up an engagement party at a local club.

The drinks were flowing, the music was pumping, and once Kennedy got it in her head to have a drinking contest with me and Buffy, well, that was when the real fun started. Gotta give it up for Kennedy here - the girl's a great wingman. She knew that I had the hots for B and she sacrificed her sobriety - and her ability to stand upright - at her own engagement bash to try to make something happen.

And holy shit did things happen, let me tell ya. You're probably gonna want to hold onto those pants again.

Now we were both pretty drunk, but don't let B lie to you about bein' a lightweight. She's a slayer just like me, and she has a good constitution because of it. She met me shot for shot, drink for drink, and when I left the dance floor to use the can, she met me in the bathroom and pinned me up against the wall. Her skin was warm and her breath smelled like whiskey and Coke, and I'll never ever forget a single thing about that moment.

"You're not trying to ditch me, are you?" she asked.

"Wouldn't think of it, B."

"Good, because our bodies work real nice-like together out on the dance floor."

And yunno what? I was drunk and I could feel her bodyheat against me through our clothes and it was making me kinda nutty. I couldn't stop the words before they were outta my mouth.

"Bet they'd work real 'nice-like' together in some other situations too."

She let out this giggle that turned into a soft hum, and then she pressed her lips together and looked up at me through her eyelashes. Her fingertips found the gap between my pants and my shirt and slowly began to creep upwards. I thought I might pop then and there.

"I bet they would," she replied, her voice low and sexy.

"Yeah?" I asked, arching one eyebrow at her as I smirked. It took everything I had to keep my cool.

"Mm-hmm."

And then my brain just kinda short-circuited. I wanted to say more, do more, make a move - shit, _anything_ really - but I was just stuck there, looking into her eyes and able to focus only on the feel of her fingers creeping higher and higher under my shirt. She was about three inches away from a handful of tit and I couldn't breathe. I don't know how long passed, probably a good minute, but she finally leaned in and pressed her lips to my ear and whispered,

"This is the part where you ask me to come home with you."

I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out what happened after that. We snuck out the back door of the club made it back to my place in one piece. She'd never been there before so I asked her if she wanted the tour.

"Maybe after," she replied.

And then . . . bliss. That's the only way I can describe it. I was totally right; our bodies fit together real nice-like, in every way imaginable. It was, without a doubt, the best sex I've ever had. And I've had a lot, yo. I don't know if it's a slayer thing or a me-and-B thing, but I've never felt anything like it before. It was like the alcohol faded away and it was just _us_. We weren't fumbling and clumsy; we were fucking perfect.

Perfect fucking.

That's what it was.

We wore each other out some time before dawn and passed out in my bed, completely naked and fully sated. I only woke later when I heard the telltale squeak of the bathroom door being opened. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around, the previous night coming back to me in waves. I definitely wasn't having any regrets, but B obviously was 'cause her clothes were gone and she was hiding in my bathroom, probably having a mental breakdown.

It actually kinda made me chuckle, see, 'cause she could pretend all she wanted that she was freaked out, but she was more than happy to invite herself over the night before, and then to stick around for seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths. _And_, she stayed the night.

I moved to get up and I felt something under my legs. When I reached down, I found Buffy's panties tangled up between the sheets and me. I grabbed them and began to stand so I could give them back to her, but then I thought, fuck it. If she was freaking, I at least wanted a souvenir from our night together if we weren't going to be having any more.

So I stashed the panties under my pillow like a good little pervert.

It was only when I heard the clatter of the vanity doors closing that I decided to end Buffy's suffering. Or possibly make her suffer more, depending on how bad her denial was.

I grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and quickly tossed it on over my head before calling out, "B?"

And then she came barreling out of the bathroom with her arms over her head, doing her best to shield her view of me as she made for the bedroom door.

I didn't call out. Hell, I didn't even chase after her. I just walked to the window and watched her run down the street with one shoe on and the other tucked under her arm. I couldn't even be mad 'cause she just looked too damn funny.

She was doing the walk of shame, but me? I was doing the dance of joy. The got-laid parade. The stride of pride. Fuck it, I was doin' all of them and I didn't care how stupid I looked.

Not a perfect ending, but I didn't really think there was such a thing anyway.

All that doesn't really matter though, 'cause less than a month later B was hidin' out in my bathroom again. It was the night after Xander had decided to throw a pirate-themed party at his new apartment, and I was pretty sure she was having her post-coital panic attack again.

The party had been a blast, and of course, once the drinks started flowing, B was suddenly my bestie again. I was tryin' not to get too friendly - her friends were all over the place, after all, and I didn't wanna send her off in a panic again - but god damn is she handsy when she's drinking! And no, not with Willow or Xander or anyone else.

Just with _me_.

How them pants doin', friends? Got a good grip on 'em this time?

I tried to play it cool but she kept finding ways to touch me, and man oh man did her touch feel good. I decided to stop drinking altogether, just so that I could keep a clear head. Besides, if the Powers That Be decided to let things go in my favor again, I wanted to remember every detail.

And I wanted Buffy to, too.

I started putting less and less rum in her pineapple juice - just enough to keep her buzzed but not enough to push her over into drunk territory. But it didn't seem to matter how much she drank; she was pretty much all over me regardless.

We snuck out before the party could start to wind down and ended up back at my place again. And yeah, it was fucking awesome. I made sure to take my time with her, kissing every inch of her skin and leaving half a dozen hickeys across her body. We kissed for what felt like hours and her tongue tasted sweet like white rum and tangy like pineapple juice. I couldn't get enough of her, but it seemed like she couldn't get enough of me either.

And she can say what she wants, but she wasn't drunk. Three hours had passed since her last drink and the buzz had to have been gone, too. Slayer constitution, remember? I was hoping that we'd wake up a bit differently that time around; that maybe she'd stay and then we could do the whole thing over again.

But when I woke up to find her clothes picked up and the bathroom door closed, I knew that it was pretty much a repeat of the last time. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I got up and pulled on some boyshorts and a shirt. Her panties were hanging from the ceiling fan and I made sure to stash them under my pillow before making a last ditch effort to get her to stay.

"B? You can come outta there, yunno," I said loud enough for her to hear.

When she didn't reply, I bit my lower lip and weighed my options. I shrugged to myself and decided to go for broke. Figured it couldn't turn out any worse than the last time, and look where we'd ended up again anyway.

"I was thinkin that maybe we could do that again, and then maybe I can go to that Chinese joint down the street and get us some food."

I figured that if hot sex with me wasn't enough to convince her to stay, chicken with broccoli would do it. Girl has a total weakness for Chinese food.

And me, of course. But I was obviously that post-second-piece-of-cheesecake guilt that she didn't quite know how to deal with.

Fuck it, I say. Just eat some more cheesecake and be happy.

And by 'eat some more cheesecake' I mean me, but I think both you and I know that, friend.

I gave her a couple minutes to think it over but she obviously wasn't ready to deal. I had to let her off the hook. I didn't mean to sigh, but it happened anyway.

"Alright then. I'm gonna head on down and get some food for myself so you don't gotta do the walk of shame in front of me. Just gimme two minutes."

I finished getting dressed and fought every urge in my body to walk into the bathroom and make her see that I wasn't some kind of mistake. Instead I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, not even bothering to tie my boots. I had to get the hell outta there before I caved and made a fool outta myself.

The Chinese joint was empty except for me and I placed an order for my usual: Szechuan Chicken, General Tso's, Beef Lo Mein, and a quart of white rice. And just because I was hoping for a miracle, I ordered some chicken with broccoli too. Figured that even if she was gone, it was only about ten bucks down the drain.

And, yunno . . . my pride.

Betcha you're feelin' pretty sad in them pants right about now, arentcha?

Nah, don't be. I wasn't. I'd figured that whatever had been goin' on between us was a one-time thing and was fortunate enough that it had turned into a two-time thing. I was pretty happy to just keep the memories.

. . . and her panties. You can bet your sweet ass I wasn't givin' those bad boys up.

A couple days passed by before I saw her again. It was business as usual; no eye contact, limited interaction, and absolutely no being caught alone with one another. She took Red or Dawn with her wherever she went, and one time she even started a conversation with Andrew about his favorite James Bond actor just to avoid having to speak to me when I went to hand in some paperwork.

Yeah, I bet she was regretting that even more than our little trysts.

But whatever. I was moving on.

Get some, get gone.

I had to get back to the basics, so I figured I'd get out before things got even weirder between us. Being around her was too big a temptation and I wasn't about to make a fool of myself. It just wasn't my style.

Lorne invited everyone out to celebrate his impending celebrity status and we all met up at a bar not too far from my place. I made sure to clean up real nice 'cause I figured it'd be the last time I'd see the group before I had Angel send me to another city to work. When I hopped out of the shower, the bathroom was all foggy and the mirror steamed up. I grabbed a towel to wipe it off, but then I had one of those completely foolish girly moments that I try to avoid like herpes.

I pressed my fingertip to the mirror and wrote our initials in the steam.

F + B.

I stared at the writing for almost a minute before finally coming to my senses and wiping that shit away.

I headed out to the bar after I finished getting ready and was surprised to see that I was the last person to show up. Everyone was there, drinks in hand and the celebration in full swing. I held up two fingers to the bartender and he poured me two shots of Jack. They went down like water and I ordered two more just so that I could catch up with everyone.

Not even an hour passed before Buffy was at my side, pretending to be enthralled by Angel's latest business recap while her thumb traced small circles on the exposed skin of my back between my pants and shirt. It was all I could focus on, that small little movement. It was completely distracting, and not in the good kind of way. All I could think about was how I wanted her to touch me all over. How I wanted to touch her all over.

How she was already ordering another drink to keep dulling her senses.

And I wasn't gonna let that happen anymore.

Ignoring everyone around us, I took Buffy's wrist and pulled her towards the exit of the club. "C'mon B, lets go outside and have a chat."

She stumbled along behind me - not because of how drunk she was but because of how high her heels were - and didn't bother to ask what was going on. When we reached the outside, I pushed her back against the rough brick wall and stepped right up in her personal space, leaving less than an inch between us.

"You drunk, B?" I asked, her breath mingling with mine as she looked up into my eyes.

"Not exactly," she replied, looking wary.

"Good."

And then I kissed her. I kissed her with everything I had, losing myself completely in her touch, her taste, her scent; in _her_. And you know what? She didn't even fight it. Her fingers clung to my shirt, pulling me impossibly closer to her. It wasn't because of alcohol; maybe she'd only needed the booze those other times to help loosen up those inhibitions she clings to so fuckin' tightly.

Whatever. All I knew was that she was kissing me back, she wasn't completely trashed, and when I started kissing her neck, she whispered that we should leave.

So we did. I took her back to my place and, let me tell ya, it was fucking amazing. I got to know her every dip and curve. She got to know mine. I found out that she's double-jointed. She found out that I really appreciate bendiness.

And when all was said and done, she fell asleep in my arms.

That's right, friends. We fucked, she stayed, we slept, and we fuckin' snuggled.

There goes my reputation, right? Nah. Who the fuck cares?

Go ahead and hold your hands up and do the no-pants dance. I probably would have done the same if Buffy hadn't been in my arms. Kinda hard to do the dance of joy with a chick in your arms, so I just settled for a victory wiggle.

I woke up before her and I just enjoyed it. Waking up after a night with her and _not_ finding her panicking in the bathroom in the morning? Yeah, that's an A+ night for me. I stayed like that for an hour, listening to her quiet snoring - yeah, that's right, snoring - until I felt her wake.

And then I pretended to sleep because I guess I was still just a giant pussy afraid of what the morning after was gonna mean to her.

I concentrated hard on keeping my breathing steady and even as she tensed up. It was so hard not to hold my breath in anticipation. But then she . . . un-tensed. Fuck, she even _relaxed_. She just laid there for a whole ten minutes. I thought maybe she'd passed out until I felt her fingertips brush over my cheek.

But then she was up and running again, or more accurately, fumbling around for her clothes.

If she'd been watching me she probably woulda noticed how I stopped breathing so evenly and sighed with disappointment. But no, she was looking for her clothes. She'd probably even find her panties this time. Dammit.

But instead of taking off out of my room and out of my apartment . . . I heard the telltale squeak of the bathroom door.

Buffy Summers was back in my bathroom having another mental breakdown.

It had to be progress though, right? I mean, at least she didn't head for the exit with her pride and her panties this time.

I let her stay in there for a whole ten minutes before I couldn't take it any longer. I couldn't just let her sit there and make up her mind about me while I pretended to sleep. I had to act before she realized how un-drunk she was and about what that meant about her choice to come home with me again.

When I walked into the bathroom, she was standing there in just her bra and sexy black panties, hands on the sink and staring at herself in the mirror. I didn't give her a chance to notice me; I just stepped up behind her and wrapped my arms around her stomach, pulling her back against me. She didn't even tense up; she just fell back into my arms so fucking easily.

"Isn't this the part where you get outta dodge and leave your panties behind to torment me?" I asked her. I started kissing along her shoulder, knowing that it was one of her weak spots.

"Yes, though the part with the panties is never intentional. Once they come off they go rogue and I never see them again." She was nervous. I didn't want her to be. I looked up into the mirror and met her eyes, and . . . god, she was so fucking sexy. Hair all mussed, half naked, looking like the very definition of sex.

"Rogue panties. You're just full of surprises, B."

But me? I had some surprises in me, too. I guessed that if I wanted Buffy, I had to be bold and take her. She didn't have any alcohol to fall back on that time. I just had to make her realize how bad she wanted me too.

I let my hands slowly slide down her smooth stomach and I could feel her body actually tremble. But when my thumbs hooked under the top of her panties and tried to coax them down, I didn't know if the trembling was actually from desire or nerves.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," she said as she put her hands on mine and stopped their descent.

I met her gaze in the mirror and I could see it, just how much she wanted me too. There was just that last little bit of anxiety there. Like she knew what the implications were that time around, and I had to make her comfortable with them. I had to at least give it a winning try, right?

"Well," I began, taking her hands in mine and guiding them back up behind my neck and into my hair. "I happen to think it's a great fuckin' idea. And I think you should come back to bed with me," I paused and glided my hands back down her shoulders, over her sides, and down to her hips, "and let me have my naughty way with you."

I was winning. I knew I was. Her body was trembling under my touch, but I could feel the desire rolling off of her in waves. She wasn't nervous; she wanted me.

And folks? She wanted me bad.

Take off those pants and throw 'em across the room, 'cause you're not gonna be needing them anymore.

She takes a quick breath and breathes out, "That's definitely a bad idea."

I let my fingers creep down just a bit lower until they pushed past her panties and found their target. She gasped gently and I couldn't help but smile.

"You're right. It's for sure a bad idea. We can just stay right here."

And just like that, I had Buffy in the palm of my hands. She wasn't running. She wasn't impaired by drink or worse. I whispered softly to her while she closed her eyes, keeping her right there with me; not letting her put me out of her mind for a second. I told her the things I wanted to do to her, told her how amazing she felt, told her how I wanted to make her feel.

It was perfect. Everything about it, just . . . perfect. B against me, me inside her, my lips on her skin; I couldn't ask for anything more. I wished it could last forever, but all fucking amazing things have to come to an end, am I right?

It ended with a kiss.

I think I took her by surprise. I don't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't that. She'd just had a killer orgasm and my arms were around her waist holding her against me. She turned back to look at me, and . . . shit. I couldn't fight it anymore. I leaned in and gave her a long, deep, lazy kiss. When I pulled back her eyes were still closed, but I could feel something shift in the room.

Her nerves were back, and they were threatening to ruin everything.

So I stepped back and I gave her space. I needed her to know that I was there but I wasn't pressing. I left the ball completely in her court. I had let her know I wanted her; now it was up to her whether she was going to reciprocate.

Still, I wasn't gonna let her completely off the hook. No way was I gonna wait around forever for her to realize something I think we both already knew.

"You can take a shower if you want," I told her, "or leave if ya gotta. No way am I waiting three weeks for that again though, B, just so ya know. So, yeah. I'm gonna go make some breakfast. Got some bacon and some eggs, and if you think you're gonna stay I'll even make you some banana pancakes. And then maybe we can go back in there and have a little more of that."

Without giving her a chance to freak out even more, I backed out of the bathroom and gave her one last smile before heading for the kitchen.

I was in the kitchen for a few minutes, getting kinda nervous at her complete silence. I couldn't put it past Buffy to hop out of the window to her death just to avoid another walk of shame, and for a brief second I considered running back into the bedroom and boarding up the window so that she'd have to face me if she wanted to leave.

Luckily for me - and my security deposit - she saved me from having to do so.

"Hey Faith?" she called out.

"Yeah?"

"I like my bacon crispy."

I smiled as I placed the frying pan on the stove top and turned on a high flame.

Got-Laid Parade.

Stride of Pride.

Dance of Joy.

I did all of 'em.

And when Buffy walked in and caught me dancing around like an idiot with a spatula in my hand, she taught me a new one:

The G-Spot Trot.

It was, by far, my favorite of them all.

**The End.**


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